The chair who got tired of people

One day a chair got sick of people sitting on it.

‘I can't stand them anymore. They have no respect.’

She complained to her companions around the kitchen table.

‘Humans are heavy. And they fart on me all the time. The stench is unbearable. Plus, they’re so fake about it. Trying to muffle the noise with coughs or by clearing their throats as if they were about to make a speech in parliament.’ Being exposed to the TV all the time, the chair had become quite informed on current affairs. Even though she couldn’t quite tell the difference between news, ads, reality shows, or tv series. She had a chair brain after all.

‘I’ve had enough! Viva la revoluciòn because I’m worth it!’

Even in her confusion, the chair was furious. The others tried to appease her.

‘What kind of change do you want? After all, we are made for people to sit on us. It's our purpose and it's not that bad. Other pieces of furniture have much harder jobs. Have you tried talking to the toilet?’

The chair wasn't convinced, so the others decided to ignore her antics. They were used to her going against the grain. She was just built that way. Seeing that she couldn’t’ rally her sisters to her cause, the chair began by herself what she called “quiet quitting”. She would allow people to sit on her, but move her cushion slightly, so that the sitter was always busy fixing it. Or she would make sure to not be quite centred when they sat down, so that they landed in a corner and had to keep moving their behind to get comfortable.

The family started making comments about the kitchen furniture showing signs of wear. Such talk concerned the other members of the ensemble, who decided it was time for an intervention on their sister. They weren’t too sure how that worked, so they took her to the toilet. He was there since the building of the house and was widely considered to be the wisest appliance around.

The toilet greeted them jovially:

‘Why, if it isn’t my fine friends, the kitchen chairs! What brings you to my humble abode? It's rare to see you ladies outside of work!’

'Greetings, wise toilet. We come to ask for your advice on a difficult matter. Our friend here is tired of people sitting on her. You are an expert on the topic, and we'd like to hear your thoughts.'

The toilet sighed, flattered. It was the first time the chairs had moved to ask for advice.

‘My dear, our work is of massive importance. We are essential to the smooth running of the house. The humans often appear ungrateful, but deep down, they know just how essential we are.’

‘If that is true, why are we kitchen chairs constantly dragged and shoved from side to side? They are talking about how damaged we are, do they really care that much? We’ll all be replaced eventually.’

The toilet sighed again, remembering the Great Clogging of two months earlier: he had been sick for days, spilling sewage on the floor. The hustle and bustle had been incredible. The humans had fussed around him until he had recovered. For a moment, he pondered how lucky he was, one of a kind and difficult to replace and upgrade, compared to those poor chairs.

‘Each of us has a role in the house, and it is not always a pleasant one. Sometimes it takes a problem to remind them of our importance.’

‘A problem? What do you mean?’

But the toilet was quite elderly and had fallen asleep snoring and gurgling, so they tiptoed back to the kitchen and left it alone.

‘You heard what the toilet said, right? Hopefully, you will now reconsider your reckless behaviour,’ the other chairs said. ‘Don’t forget that whenever you act up, you put all of us at risk. Remember who you are. Real chairs don’t crack under pressure.’

The chair was disappointed but decided that her companions were right. She had to find a way to improve her situation without involving them. The toilet's words kept coming to her mind. One day, after much mulling, she concluded that to get more attention from people, she had to break. And she knew just what to do. A contraction of the wood here, a loosening of the glue there, and the next time someone grabbed it to sit down, the back broke into two pieces with a crack.

Being made of wood, the chair felt no particular discomfort; only a small tickle. She stood there, backless, waiting.

‘Mum, this chair broke!’

The woman bent down to inspect the damage. The breakage was clear and most of the chair was still intact.

‘Well, we've got five more, and there's only three of us; we can give this one to the cat, can't we?’ She rose up mumbling something about bills and monthly payments and overpriced plumbers.

So, the chair, with a nice round cushion on top and four scratching posts around the legs, became property of Prospero, the family cat. The family sanded down the stumps of the back, placed his favourite cushion on the seat, and wrapped scratching pads around her legs. It was a family project over a weekend, and the kid was very excited. As for the chair, she found herself relishing the unexpected attention.

Those ladies with the long hair are right, she thought, I really am worth it.

The first time Prospero was presented with his new throne, the chair was shaking so much she thought her screws would fall off. The cat might tear her to shreds with its nails, or even worse, be completely uninterested, which would prompt the family to just get rid of her. She was also concerned about the smell of pee; the litter box complained nonstop about her plight.

However, the concerned chair was rewarded for her boldness. Prospero took to his throne right away, and also proved to be a stickler for grooming. He was also much lighter than a person, and he did not drag her up and down the room. At night, the chair fell asleep to his purring.

I've really moved up, she thought, it’s true what they say: think different and just do it!